The More Things Change
by moe81
Summary: Lambo thinks about the past.


**Title**: The More Things Change  
**Word count**: 2136  
**Rating/Warnings**: PG  
**Character(s) or pairing(s):** Lambo  
**A/N:** This was originally for the KHR_Undercover community.

* * *

It was quiet, the background noise nothing more than an indistinguishable murmur. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air and the low light played tag with the shadows. A glass of milk and a set of golden horns sat innocuously on a small table, while long fingers rubbed absently over a pale band of flesh on an empty ring finger.

Green eyes gazed warily at the darkened surroundings, never quite trusting that the next person passing by wouldn't just whip out a gun and start firing. There wasn't much trust left in this world and for someone with his past, there was even less. His ties to the world made regular attempts to choke him and there were times he'd be happy to allow it.

All but for one thing… well, several little ones.

He'd become more responsible the older he'd gotten but even now, he still had to question Tsuna's logic with the decision to give him guardianship of the Sawada offspring. He loved the tykes, above and beyond, and he was always willing to take care of them, but the fact that they were being brought up in this particular world… he feared for them. Admittedly he'd come out of it fine but the family network he'd had just did not exist for them.

Their mother tried so hard to keep them together, when all other people wanted to do was either kill them off or make them the heirs to the Vongola. She refused. Loudly. Her steadfast resolve worked damn well but some people just never listened. When he was growing up, he recalled that she had avoided conflict at all costs. Tsuna had taught her well.

He grinned as he remembered the last meeting she'd had with an idiot. He'd silently made a new rule that day: Don't piss off the women of Vongola. You won't ever walk properly again.

He sipped at his drink, eyes lighting in amusement as his thoughts drifted to Maman. He'd gone to Japan with the intent to kill, and ended up staying with an even greater intent to protect. His lips twitched. He'd never actually hurt Reborn but, oh how he'd tried.

He'd been such a brat. He knew he'd driven Tsuna nuts but he'd managed to become so attached to him and Maman in such a short time. Clingy, always desperate for attention and the Sawada household had catered for that, even when he had managed to destroy furniture and walls on a regular basis. The number of times he'd used the bazooka...

He grinned. He really had been a crybaby but then he'd also been five at the time. His teenage self hadn't been a hell of a lot better but when the time had called for it, he'd stepped up and fought…and then cried when it was all finished. Was the bazooka still functional? He hadn't taken it out in so long that the possibility of a misfire seemed ominously inevitable. Would he give it a go anyway, for old times' sake? Probably the biggest question though: Was he still alive in ten years' time? He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

His smile slipped a little. Morbid thoughts really shouldn't be dragged into the open like that.

A small glint of light and his eyes were drawn to the table. His horns. He tilted his head as he stared at them. They were a symbol of his hope, his effort, his loss... his past.

The Bovino boss had eventually left him in Tsuna's hands, with the provision that he would return home for visits…once he'd grown up and learned to stop crying over the little things.

He'd returned once.

Stepping into the boss' office, he'd wondered if he should still call him boss, even though Reborn had told him repeatedly that old Famiglia didn't change just because you entered into a new one. His… boss had welcomed him home but Lambo had known that no matter what he was told, this was no longer where he belonged.

He'd stayed for one day. He spoke with those he needed to, smiled and said thank you and felt an extreme sense of relief when the boss of the Bovino Family had patted his shoulder and sent him on his way with no ill feelings. It had seemed a little surreal to be let go so easily, but when he had returned to Vongola headquarters and was greeted with Tsuna's grin, it hadn't seemed to matter.

His mouth turned down as he remembered other impromptu visits to Italy. He'd gone several times and never for pleasure. When news had reached him of Famiglia deaths, he hadn't hesitated to jump on the next plane but at the same time, he hadn't hesitated to leave it all behind again and rush back to Japan.

As they'd grown older, they'd spent more time away from the safe haven of home. A lot of the time he'd had to remind himself that he was in an actual life or death situation and to stop worrying about the others so much. But how did you stop doing that for the people who'd raised you? People who were friends, family?

There was an ache in his chest. He'd been happy to be with his Family but witnessing the end of the Vongola was an incident he wanted to forget. Did that make him a bad person?

He closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories, against the final shouts for him to run, get away, protect them. He was too old to cry but he could still feel the burning build up behind his eyelids. The flash of a gun muzzle with each shot, the small rivers of blood falling to the ground creating a roadway of red, the final looks of both horror and determination as everything fell apart in those moments.

He choked back the rising bile and gulped his milk in an attempt to rid himself of the still fresh taste of death. Even now, even after all this time, it still felt like it had only just happened. His memories were just too damn clear.

It still surprised him some mornings to wake up and realise that he was still breathing. As it was, his end would have come a lot sooner if not for his saviour. But how do you thank someone for saving a life that shouldn't have been saved? How do you thank someone from stopping the dismal end of a powerful Family? How do you thank someone who would never see their other half again because of said Family? How do you look someone in the eyes and watch as they pretend everything is alright?

It still hurt like hell to think about it but he had to wonder; just how long had it been since he'd last seen Tsuna, seen the others? There were days when it still seemed like yesterday, there were some days when it felt like a lifetime, then there were days when he realised it really _had_ been that long.

He reached out and ran his fingers over the cool surface. A tingle of his dormant electricity started in his tips and flared out; his palm, his wrist, his arm and up to his neck. He shivered at the anticipatory release. The last time he'd used his attacks flashed through his mind and he flinched, regret making his heart clench. The kids should never have been there. He should never have taken on those assassins. The horrified faces of the Sawada children had been seared into his memories as blood had soaked the walls and road, his face a mask of complete indifference. What idiot attacked their target in broad daylight anyway?

His hands tightened around the objects of his livelihood, similarly cursing their existence and thanking them. He rested his forehead against his fists and prayed that his strength would hold together when he was so constantly presented with obstacles from his past trying to violently force their way into his present. He prayed that he would be absolved of his sins when his judgement day came. He wanted to be a good man, even if he was mostly undeserving of it.

His eyes drifted to the side and a stranglehold of affection had his lips touching the empty space on his hand. He still had a reminder, a living one, but what would happen when the time came for him to be on his own. What was left of Vongola was close to non-existent and only the barest subtle reminders were still in material form.

He absently smoothed a wrinkle in his pants and picked at invisible lint on his jacket. Rather odd as he rarely fidgeted, priding himself on the ability to sit still for as long as it took. He scrunched his nose as he looked hard at his shirt. So plain. Sometimes he missed his old clothes.

He pouted a little. The cow print was one symbol he would have preferred to keep. Despite assassination attempts, he'd only become less…conspicuous after Tsuna had talked him into it. He still remembered the shocked faces the first day he'd arrived in a white shirt.

Hibari had promptly said that blood didn't wash properly and his shirts would all be ruined.

He'd been told _repeatedly_ by Hayato, that even with the change, his sense of dress would never gain him any attention from women. Like he would've known anyway, considering where his thoughts were always turned and Lambo was sure fashion didn't come into that particular relationship.

There was only one person whose opinion he had really wanted and she'd always seemed amused by his style, enough to touch the black print when they'd been close enough.

He tugged on one of his 'tails' and chuckled. She'd asked and he'd grown it long. She'd asked and he'd let her do weird shit to his hair. He was told that they represented his roots, even if he didn't want to remember them and seeing as he wasn't able to wear the 'sexy splotches' any more, this would work well.

He'd never taken them out.

She'd always smiled for him, even when bright red with embarrassment because he'd whispered something devious into her ear. Her lips would part just a little and he'd gaze at the small line of white teeth, mesmerised as she spoke. She would catch him staring and turn even redder, then kick out and send him into a wall. He'd thought it was amusing because she would always apologise and then kiss his bruises better.

He'd never married.

His mouth thinned into a grim line and although he tried to smile, all he could come up with was pained twitch. e

His lifestyle had never created the right opportunity for marriage and the only person he'd ever considered, had managed to get herself killed saving him. He couldn't forgive her for doing something so stupid. Not at her graveside and not in his dreams where he could change the situation to be in his favour because when he woke, his arms were still empty. Why couldn't she have stuck to delivering ramen?

He allowed himself to live vicariously through others, to see the happy homes they were able to create, a happiness he would never be able to touch. He almost wished that he could resent them but to do that would be to deny that he'd done what he could to protect them. Guess that was out of the question.

He sighed and slouched in his seat, the urge for laziness a little harsher than usual. He frowned and nibbled at his thumb nail. Memories always seemed to get him down… Maybe it was just those memories. His eyes widened a little as he realised that it was always the same ones, so did that mean he was deliberately remembering the bad stuff?

An image of destruction and blood filled his head. Well…shit.

Smiling Family members pushed forward, wiping out the scenes of battle and he felt inexplicable warmth in his chest. Maybe he wasn't completely doomed after all.

He raised his glass for the last drink and a toast to those long gone, and nearly dropped it when a woman of grace and beauty slipped into the chair opposite him. He blinked in surprise. He'd almost given up on her presence. "You came."

She smiled softly at him but in her eyes he could still see the lingering sadness that touched her. "I had no reason not to."

He reached across the small space separating them and clasped her hand. "It's good to see you, Kyoko-san."

Her fingers tightened around his and his heart broke a little, as he watched her force her smile a little brighter. "And you as well, Lambo."


End file.
